Tagphysics

002

Dark Balls

not exactly “black holes”

Patterns repeat throughout all scales, from galactic to solar to atomic.

Fucking, goddamned black holes. Those sly, slippery {Dirt D}evils.

black hole: a region of space having a gravitational field so intensely immense that no matter or radiation can escape

As with any good eureka, the final answer couldn’t have been more beautifully obvious.

event horizon: a theoretical radius around a black hole from which no radiation or thing can escape

Then, a few days later, the real epiphany happened. Bloody hell. What’s next?

Like “global warming,” [another story entirely], the term “black hole” has been horribly misleading. “Hole” implies that it’s not a “ball,” right?

Right.

Except wrong.

Opposite of right.

Left. Backward. Reverse. “Slurp.”

A black hole sets the benchmark for what it means to be heavy. “Nothinglives can live inside beyond its spherical border.

Just as planets anchor moons and stars anchor solar systems, black holes dark orbs (if I may) [or “godspheres”] anchor galaxies. At the center of our galaxy, The Milky Way, spanning 100,000 light years and containing upwards of 100 billion stars, a gargantuan monster that never sleeps and harbors/exercises an unquenchable appetite for anything energized [a supermassive black hole] lurks, spirals, warps, drains, tugs, pulls and sucks one type of matter across its event horizon—it obliterates the rest of the periodic table on approach. However, this process leaves a fairly important byproduct (called light) encircling a threshold (of time, as it were) [and which might equal pi, who the hell knows].

See, unlike matter, light is too fast for a black hole to consume; but a black hole’s gravity is too strong for light to escape. In other words, their relationship is complicated.

The term “black hole” suggests an emptiness, does it not? It’s actually the opposite of that, too. It’s full. In fact, the mass of a black hole could be no more full—packed as tightly as matter can be packed.

Beyond an event horizon, available space doesn’t exist, but time still does. This is probably more confusing than you are e/p/m capable of computing! For now, don’t worry about it.

Do you know/remember how/why time happens? The faster anything moves, the slower it ages/decays. At the speed of light, time stops/stands still. But only light can travel fast enough to stop ignore the effects {and sidestep the cost} of time. Basically, time happens when matter borrows/uses energy/light to resist the force of gravity. Think of this fundamental layer of existence as primordial friction. It balances how/why literally anything can/could happen.

Time itself doesn’t make evolution merely possible; the passage of time forces evolution to occur.

If you can see something, then it is changing.

When matter stops evolving—i.e. when time freezes—it becomes void of light and, thus, dead. This means that in order to experience/perceive time {and potentially live}, one must change/grow/age/evolve.

Upon death of matter, Earth decomposes and reabsorbs the remainder.

Yes, Mother Earth always recycles.

As charged, solar particles collide with atmospheric matter, the Northern Lights signify the birth of photons.

Yeah, She’s obviously very green.

Now think of black holes as holy energy. An event horizon represents the barrier beyond which light cannot live and (therefore) [MASSIVE EPIPHANY INCOMING] the point at which time must reverse.

Yep, black holes essentially rewind time and shit out gravity, a.k.a. dark energy. How poetic is that?

Yup, this revelation is kind of important in that it will change the face of mathematics.

And now, the real kicker.

I’m not kidding.

Once upon a time (in the late 1700s), an underappreciated scholar named John Michell discovered what he termed “dark stars.” Re-termed “black holes” in 1967, we still don’t have the name right.

Do we think stuff just “disappears” in there? Naw, I reckon things collect, amass, grow. Sure, it spits stuff back out, but what doesn’t? All black holes, in fact, are growing; waste is a requisite of growth. But “holes,” they are not. They are our galactic anchors—spheres just like every star, planet, and moon out there.

Duh.

The only difference is that we can’t see the (circular) shape because it does not reflect light.

Yeah, so, apparently, anchoring a galaxy means not entangling with light.

Why?

I’m actually performing this thought experiment while streaming my consciousness via writing. I could edit this out later. I wonder if I will…

I’m imagining that “black holes” [nope, I can’t bring myself to omit the quotation marks this far in] are essentially giant “godballs,” utterly devoid of light, comprised entirely of primordial hydrogen: atmospheric gas, liquid surface, densely solid mantle, and right off the top of my head [out of my ass], I’m gonna guess the core is metallic and preposterously dense.

Am I Are you right?!

The aforementioned metallic state is particularly noteworthy as it would be capable of conducting electricity. Perhaps it’s something beyond metallic—a state that does not allow light to breach its mass [meaning we’ve never seen it and thus could only guess about what it is]—but what if sparks flew around one of these suckers [pun {extra} intended]?

Also, why does anchoring a galaxy preclude any celestial body from mingling with starlight?

I’m glad I asked!

Here’s why: at some point after all but one element has fallen [remember: all elements are heavier than hydrogen], assumedly close to a measurement inversely proportional to c, matter becomes too heavy to move. It collapses, squishes, melds, contracts, reduces. That’s the breaking point {around 1.008u, perhaps}. That’s when light has no choice but to jump ship. But by then, it’s too late. Light cannot escape. The gravity is too powerful. So photons orbit the H-Mass [a.k.a. “black hole”] and form a kind of flickering halo (probably) as weight fluctuates, tilting the galactic scale rhythmically from balanced to imbalanced. Welcome to Earth!

“Black holes” have been separating matter from light since spacetime began. Our brains need to take a page out of their one-sentence book.

And we need to grasp the fact that “black holes” aren’t holes. They’re balls. Big ones.

It’s almost as if a big bomb went off 12.5-13.8 billion years {and counting} ago and we orbit—plus aid in the propulsion of—the shrapnel.

It’s also almost as if these objects, in essence, are couriers of time, engines of existence.

It’s not almost as if the things are fucking holes.

It’s exactly as if they’re the other thing.

They’re goddamn balls! Dark orbs of {f}lightless matter [hydrogen].

Here are some notes I took while my brain absorbed this revelation as best it could. You may leave them unless you choose to take them:

  • Galaxies are anchored by heavy, expanding, accelerating orbs since all the things (and stuff) became scattered thanks to the Big Bang’s big boom. In other words, our observable universe used to be a ball of hydrogen’s most basic form; now it’s a bunch of smaller balls carrying all kinds of stuff along for a long ride, evolving matter over time and, by extension, giving us time to matter. Balls carrying balls carrying balls, so on and so forth.
  • This means that time can elapse even in the utter absence of light, but without light, evolution can’t occur {only revolution}. Zero represents the point at which the clock counters itself, the ever-moving event horizon.
  • All celestial bodies (whether righteously enlightened or left in the dark) become circular over time, but their patterns of motion must remain elliptical.
  • Math doesn’t exactly “break down” at an event horizon, but it does collapse at the bookends of spacetime, from the most massive scale [astrophysical], where light can’t live, to the tiniest realm [quantum], where matter doesn’t exist, meaning essentially that our concept of numbers adds up cleanly only where light and matter intermingle, birthing the possibility of free time, while each variable’s independence has heretofore eluded widespread recognition and acknowledgement (by humans). For any universal truth in history, could there have been a better hiding spot than in plain sight? I’m pretty sure (all) this is notable because, would you look at that, it has been noted. See, math shits itself at an event horizon, for example, because the presence of numbers implies a sequence that builds, but beyond the barrier in question, the only thing built is mass, and the only stuff built is momentum. In other words, when matter gets too big for its britches, freedom cannot ring because light flatly refuses to be deleted by gravity. Thank goodness.
  • The universe efforts to reorganize—to gather all its lost marbles, as it {kinda} were.
  • I’m immediately inclined to believe that these are the densest objects in existence.
  • When matter succumbs over time to the unavoidable force of gravity, in spite of light’s tireless effort to remain afloat, bodily expiration occurs. In other words, death equals the utter loss of time.
  • Given that galaxies are accelerating now, will dark orbs inevitably begin to plummet? What if they already are plummeting (and hence the acceleration)? What if the iteration of spacetime within which we exist has a twin (of sorts)? What if our upside, technically, is down? Wouldn’t that make oodles of sense since all the life we’ve ever known has acted upon an urge to rise?
  • The seed which sprouted this ongoing (and fairly elastic) realization was planted in late November, 2017. 23 months later, hello, (late) October, 2019. No clue whether the timeline is relevant; mentioning just in case. Not everything can should be up to me, you know?

Anyhow, poor Michell.

Math stops adding up at event horizons because they are collapsing. Can you see how we latched on to the tragically perfect term “hole”? It’s dark and round and we can’t see in there.

What happens when accelerating “dark matter” collides with a spinning ring of fiery photons?

I suppose what’s “next” comes immediately (if you read on).

By the way, isn’t it bonkers that the scientific community—or anyone, actually—has yet to solve dark matter even though we named it precisely what it is? It’s dark matter; that is to say, a mass of (hydrogen) atoms too heavy for light. D’oh!

Now comes the utmost truth(s), the nth eureka(s) contained within this entry, the final pieces of the (astro)physical puzzle(s): if suns are viewed as factories that convert hydrogen into helium, then black holes dark orbs must be the opposite, tireless machines that handle the gravity-energy conversion.

There’s a pretty solid chance you (will) have no idea how monumental this epiphany may be(come). It’s funny. It answers everything.

And there’s more. As a body emotes energy in an effort to matter, light turns into consciousness by filtering through brains.

A dark orb “hungers” for light but (physically) can only consume matter, which generates the force called gravity and inspires the power known as energy, which becomes emotion.

Energy, people. Energy is EVERYTHING.

Emotions tell us what we need. Everybody needs (to) matter. The “eternal desire” would seem to be capturing light. And we’ve got “nothing” to lose. Let us be already.

Queen [Freddie] knew. “Nothing really matters. Anyone can see.”

Nothing really matters.

many

When the mass of a black hole becomes so immense that its gravity measures inversely proportional the speed of light, that’s when I have to assume that a primordial ball of metallic matter could start the distribution of a galaxy.

When the mass of a black hole becomes so immense that its gravity measures inversely proportional the speed of light squared, that’s when I have to assume a rather big [quantum] “Bang” would occur.

I shall stop momentarily, but this shit’s important.

Recognize, okay?

I may be the most impressive specimen to ever roam the earth, but I need your help.

This is me begging:

“Please.”